DOMINIC WALES, 30, Sergeant.

Dom is lucky. Things always slide his way and he knows it. This is probably because he’s a positive guy with simple needs and wants. He doesn’t like to complicate things; instead he’s a big fan of going with the flow. He was the kid at school who sat up the back, made jokes and constantly got into superficial trouble. His classmates and the majority of his teachers loved him. He was effortlessly popular. And he’s just like that on the team – everyone wants to ride with Dom, you know it’ll be a good day out.

He is smart and did ok enough at school in spite of his seeming inattention. The word that most came up on his report cards was 'coasting' – which is what he was doing in the bomb squad before he was recruited into the Tactical Response. Now a valued member of the squad, he feels right at home. TR gives him the flexibility to utilise his various skills - his athletic ability, his easy charm, and his ability to think laterally. He’s not a leader in any sense, Dom’s always happy to be the wing man.

The job does not define his life the way it does with, say, Lawson. Dom is always calling home and is a new dad. He comes from a large family household in an outer suburb where there were always kids everywhere, friends from school staying over, cousins, aunts, uncles. In Dom’s huge and chaotic extended family, love and dysfunction were equally mixed. It’s what defines him. He has a benign view of the world, a high sense of moral outrage at perceived inequities, and he’s a committed greenie.

He has all the charm and personality in the world, but Dom is not actually as good as the others. He is however an intuitive explosives expert, paradoxically the only member of the squad with a bravery medal, which he earned in dismantling a bomb a member of the underworld had set for enemies in an illegal gambling den. The unstable booby trap followed none of the usual patterns of explosive devices, but Dom insisted on continuing his work, saving the lives of eighteen people trapped in a room. He might be good at explosive devices, but the others know he’s got some work to do on his other skills. As far as everyone is concerned Dom is an unfinished symphony, a work in progress who needs a guiding hand. Lawson is tiring of this. Dom is continually late for work and Lawson’s getting sick of chewing him out. Dom is showing very little of the total commitment Lawson believes every member of his squad ought to have. And his fitness is slipping.

Dom’s wife is understandably scared of his dangerous job. Being a member of a crisis team might be marginally better than being a bomb disposal expert - but only just. She sees his job as tempting fate and is forever encouraging him to leave. But Dom can’t think of anything else he’d rather do. He knows his family must come first...but not yet.